UK Monster | In search of a 100lb Catfish.

by Ian Todman

My love affair with the Wels catfish began almost 30 years ago, when a good friend persuaded me to give it a try—although, in truth, I didn't take much convincing. I'd already spent countless hours reading about these strange, whiskered giants and the incredible sizes they could reach. What appealed to me even more was that the tactics weren't a million miles away from my winter pike fishing, just without the wire traces.

What I hadn't been prepared for, however, was the sheer, raw power of these fish. The fight was unlike anything I'd experienced before and, from the moment I slipped the net under my very first catfish—a modest fish of around 22lb - I was completely hooked... no pun intended.

Looking back now, it's remarkable just how much our perception of an "incredible" catfish has changed. Back then, a 40lb fish was considered a real giant, yet it was still well within the realms of possibility. A 50lb fish, on the other hand, was the ultimate prize- something every catfish angler dreamed of catching. Better still, there were several waters around the UK where that dream could genuinely become a reality.

As the years passed, the fish seemed to grow exponentially. Whether through improved fishery management, better nutrition from the increased use of high-protein baits such as pellets and boillies, or the introduction of faster-growing European strains that saw average sizes continue to climb rapidly. Before long, the catfish I was reading about - and, thankfully, fortunate enough to catch myself - had reached weights that once seemed almost unimaginable. Even so, the thought of a 100lb fish here in the UK still belonged firmly in the realm of fantasy. That magical three-figure barrier was something associated with the vast rivers and expansive stillwaters of mainland Europe, where warmer climates and abundant natural food allow catfish to fulfil their incredible potential.

While nobody knows exactly how many fisheries now hold fish of that calibre, there are at least a dozen officially licensed venues with confirmed 100lb-plus catfish

It wasn't until 2015 that the first officially documented capture of a 100lb-plus Wels catfish in the UK made headlines. Since then, that once unimaginable milestone has become an increasingly realistic target. While nobody knows exactly how many fisheries now hold fish of that calibre, there are at least a dozen officially licensed venues with confirmed 100lb-plus catfish - and countless more rumours of mythical monsters lurking beneath the surface. Even after all these years, those stories are enough to get my heart racing.

One such venue was the phenomenal Fishable Houchins, where, in the summer of 2021, I first came into contact with a truly massive UK catfish. At that time the fishery consisted of two lakes: a dedicated carp lake and a catfish lake. The latter was home to two confirmed 100lb-plus fish, along with several impressive backup fish, making it one of the country's premier catfish venues.

That particular night had already been one to remember. I'd landed three catfish earlier in the session, the biggest weighing just shy of 60lb, and everything seemed to be falling into place.

Then, around midnight, it happened. My live bait screamed into life and I leant into what was, without question, the hardest-fighting catfish I'd ever hooked in the UK. Within seconds it had me flat-rodded, stripping line from the reel as though I simply wasn't there. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

The hook hold gave way! I stood there completely speechless, trying to process what had just happened, knowing I'd probably just lost the fish of a lifetime.

Fast forward to today, and I'd been fortunate enough to catch some truly impressive catfish, including several huge Spanish specimens. Taking on the role of Brand Manager at Wychwood and leading the development of the Agitator range of catfish tackle had also opened the door to far more time on the bank. Product development and testing demanded countless hours fishing, giving me the perfect excuse to do what I loved most.

By this point, however, my mindset had shifted. Rather than obsessing over the elusive UK hundred, I found myself gravitating towards venues that offered the chance of multiple big-fish captures. During the very first season of field testing alone, I banked well over 150 catfish - an incredible amount of time on the bank that taught me more about these remarkable fish than I could ever have imagined.

During this time, Fishable Houchins had gone from strength to strength. In no small part, this was thanks to owner Tony Wiggnall's exceptional fishery management and his commitment to improving the stock through the legal rehoming of numerous large catfish from waters where they could no longer remain. The result was a truly outstanding fishery, boasting an incredible head of quality fish and, undoubtedly, one of the finest catfish venues in the country. Both lakes had now been converted into dedicated catfish waters, available exclusively for whole-lake bookings.

With the venue's ever-growing popularity, I hadn't managed to return since losing that unforgettable fish back in 2021. So, when Tony posted a last-minute cancellation for an exclusive lake booking on Cat Lake 2, I didn't hesitate. Within minutes I was on the phone, and after a couple of quick video calls I'd managed to persuade our videographer - and good friend - Tony Curd to join me for what promised to be an unforgettable 48-hour session.

I arrived at the venue in the mid-afternoon, giving myself plenty of time to settle in and soak up the atmosphere. After taking a stroll around the lake, I stopped for a chat with a couple of the lads fishing Cat Lake 1 and caught up on how things had been going.

With Cat Lake 2 to myself, I decided to drop into a swim known as Moffets. The swim takes its name from Luke Moffett, an angler renowned for pioneering European catfishing, particularly on the mighty rivers of France. Luke had been a huge inspiration to me over the years and had offered invaluable help when I was fishing the River Saône many years earlier.

I'm not a particularly superstitious person, but there was something about this swim that felt right. Not only did it look incredible, giving me the ability to cover a huge amount of water, but it just had the right feeling about it. It was giving off good vibes.

My approach to catfishing could probably best be described as traditional - perhaps even to the point of self-sabotage, some might argue. However, I have always enjoyed targeting catfish using baits that appeal to their natural predatory instincts wherever possible: livebaits, deadbaits, meat, worms and leeches. If I can avoid it, I tend not to rely on pellets and boilies.

So, on this occasion, as with many sessions before it, I arrived armed with a pint of maggots, half a dozen large mackerel and a generous supply of luncheon meat.

It soon became apparent that live bait was unlikely to be an option, as I struggled to locate the baitfish. The heat of the day had probably pushed the silver fish down into the deeper, cooler water. I was confident that, as the sun dipped and temperatures began to fall, they would become more active, but I needed to get some baits in the water.

Having seen countless daytime catch shots from Houchins over the years, I knew fish could be caught throughout the day, so I decided to put all my eggs in one basket—at least for the first night – with all three rods fishing meat as bait.

It wasn't long before the action began. No sooner had the sun disappeared below the horizon than the first signs of life came along.

A screaming run.

I lifted into it…. Nothing, thin air.

Now, this is far from unusual when catfishing. Over the years, I've heard plenty of very plausible explanations for these frustrating false takes: small "kittens" picking up the bait, big fish trailing line, or a catfish taking the bait and simply sitting with the bait in its pads, who knows.

But after the third occurrence, I have to admit I was beginning to question what was really happening.

A trailing fish seemed unlikely. Tony runs a tight ship at Houchins, with sensible rules and a strong emphasis on fish care, so it would take some doing for a fish to snap proper catfish tackle. Smaller cats also seemed an unlikely explanation - after all, this place is home to genuine monsters.

Cat Lake 2 still holds a very healthy stock of carp, so in my mind this seemed the most likely culprit. Yet whatever the cause of those false runs, the real reason would remain a mystery.

Because the fourth take turned out to be something else entirely...

At 4am the left-hand margin rod tore off. Having missed the three previous runs, I approached this one far more calmly and methodically than I had before. Whether that was down to experience, or simply because I was running on fumes after very little sleep, I'm not entirely sure. Either way, I lifted the rod from the rest and allowed the line to peel freely from the open bail arm.

I let the line run across the palm of my hand. This fish was moving with some serious urgency.

I turned to Tony and said something along the lines of "Surely there is no way this is not a fish. There is no way!"

I flicked the bail arm over, wound down tight and struck. This time the rod hooped over in a solid arc, and I remember thinking, Thank goodness for that... or words to that effect.

As Tony scrambled down the bank with his camera gear, I called out, "Don't worry, mate, it's not a monster." Famous last words.

It was still pitch black, and at first the fish did very little to suggest it was anything out of the ordinary. It simply kited out of my left-hand margin and into open water in front of the swim. Then, the moment it reached the centre of the swim, everything changed.

Without warning, it powered off on an unstoppable thirty-yard run, despite me leaning into the fish with everything I had. An absolute battle ensued, with the fish, of course, taking out my middle rod for good measure.

With the fish finally beaten, you'd think that after nearly 30 years of catfishing - and having landed countless big fish, both for myself and for others - I would have gone through the landing process like clockwork.

As it turned out... not quite. Bear in mind, at this point I still hadn't actually seen the fish.

My first mistake was reaching for the landing net.

The fish surfaced beneath the rod tip, and, with surprising cooperation, I guided her towards the waiting mesh. Her head slipped neatly over the cord, and I began to draw the net underneath her. Then reality hit. There was absolutely no way she was going to fit.

For what felt like an eternity, I simply stood there staring in disbelief. This enormous catfish lay perfectly still, her head resting neatly against the spreader block while something like three feet of tail extended well beyond the end of my 65-inch catfish net.

"How big is that?" Tony shouted. "Oh... it's a hundred," I replied. "It's definitely a hundred."

Instinct immediately kicked in. I grabbed my landing glove, slid down the bank and secured her firmly by the lower jaw. With Tony's help, we carefully guided the giant into the waiting weigh sling.

By now, the sun had broken over the horizon and, for the first time, we could properly see what we were dealing with. While Tony kept a close eye on the fish, I quickly prepared the unhooking area, soaking the mats with buckets of fresh water before setting up the tripod and zeroing the scales.

Then came the hard part.

Without help I would have been lost at this point. The lake was sitting almost three feet below its normal summer level, leaving a steep, awkward bank between me and the unhooking area so working as a team, we carefully and methodically eased the fish up the bank, taking every precaution to support her weight and keep her comfortable.

Only when she was safely resting on the mat did I finally get the chance to stand back and take it all in.

She was enormous.

The scales hit 112lb 4oz, and it a fish named Helga. Being able to catch her for the cameras was something very special indeed; content trips don't always go to plan, but I can confidently say this trip could not have worked out much better.

Now, having finally expelled the last possible ounce of energy we had between us, Tony and I slowly lowered the huge fish back into the water, where I supported her in the weigh sling for a few moments. Still almost lost for words, I somehow managed to record one final piece to camera before she powered away strongly. At the time of writing, I still haven't watched the footage, so whatever I said in those final moments was probably more like garbled nonsense than anything coherent – but you never know your luck, I guess.

With the fish safely returned and the last pieces of content recorded, Tony and I called an end to what had been an incredible session.

So, what happens next? Well, there are plenty more big cats for me to target around the UK, and four more still reside at Fishable Houchins. I have no doubt whatsoever that I'll be back for round two.

Catfishing in the UK really is going from strength to strength. More and more anglers are discovering the sport, and it's not hard to see why when you witness the sheer size and power of these incredible predators. If you haven't yet experienced the raw power of what is, in my opinion, pound for pound the hardest-fighting British freshwater fish, I thoroughly encourage you to give it a go. Just be warned—you might, like me, never look back!